


It's Not "Goodybe," It's "See You Later"

by ruff_ethereal



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Disasters, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4036675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/pseuds/ruff_ethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred goes off overseas for volunteer work, helping fight a new disease that's got people dropping and doctors stumped.</p><p>Back home in San Fransokyo, his boyfriend Wasabi worries, especially when Fred gets infected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not "Goodybe," It's "See You Later"

**Author's Note:**

> For augment-techs on tumblr.

Fred smiled. His skin was pale—too pale—his eyes had an unhealthy, rheumy yellow haze, his skin was slick and shiny with sweat.

“Hey Wasabi!” He croaked. “Long time no see! How've you been?”

Wasabi had prepared himself as best as he could for this moment.

He had set up his laptop right by their spot on his couch, the sight of the permanent depression and the permanent cheese dust stains. He had spent a good three days knocking out every single last errand, chore, and academic activity he could possibly think of, his fridge and shelves completely stocked, freshly planted seeds growing quietly in his herb garden, the next two days completely without any obligations of any sort from his job at the sushi bar or SFIT. He had even lit one of Honey Lemon's aromatherapy candles, the special formulation guaranteed to calm his nerves down, and there was no way he was wasting that or letting it burn unattended.

About the only thing that could tear him away from this couch or bother him was the Call to Action, but even the villains, criminal element, and lowlifes of San Fransokyo had decided to take a vacation, take their business out of town, or spend the week inside their secret lairs, dinghy apartments, and abandoned buildings.

But as he looked at Fred, he realized there was absolutely nothing he could do to brace himself for what he saw.

“… Good.” Wasabi lied. “Life's been pretty good here. Peaceful. Quiet. Kind of boring, actually.”

Fred laughed, but suddenly started coughing. Wasabi's fingers tightened on his thighs.

Fred turned away from the camera. Wasabi didn't need to see to know what he was doing; the sounds, and the way it made his skin crawl and his bile rise were signs enough.

Fred plucked a tissue from off screen and cleaned himself before he turned back. He still looked awful, but at the very least, he'd gotten most of the blood.

He smirked. “Never thought I'd see the day where you'd be complaining about everything going just fine.”

Wasabi sighed. “Guess I just got used to having you around. Never a boring day with you...”

Fred smiled. “From all the yelling, all the lecturing, and all the hugging and kissing, I'd say so too, yeah.”

“When do you think you're coming home, Fred?”

Fred's smile disappeared. “Dunno. The doctor's are still trying to figure out this disease. This latest treatment they've tried on me is pretty gnarly stuff; I think I saw Morgan Freeman and Stephen Fry riding in the backseat of a London taxi cab, George Miller on the wheel, and Robo-Godzilla's head in the passenger seat for a moment there.”

“Did it work?”

“… They haven't officially declared that it doesn't work yet, but… yeah, it's not looking good for Cure #37.”

Wasabi nodded. He bit back the urge to say “Do you think the next one will work?” and all the other questions Fred didn't like him asking.

“Oh! Before I forget: I got the Kaiju IVs.” Fred raised his hand up to the screen. Attached to his wrist were IV catheters with colourful pieces of plastic in the shape of iconic movie monster's heads. “Check it: Godzilla, Mothra, and even Krogar.” He pointed a pale, shaky finger at each head as he said their name.

Fred smiled. “Can't go wrong with this trio, yeah?”

Wasabi forced a smile, but it was obvious it was fake. He never could do it.

There was a beeping noise on Fred's end of the call.

“Welp, looks like I hit my data cap for today!” Fred smiled. “I'll see you later, Wasabi. I love you.”

“I'll see you later, Fred. I love you too.”

Wasabi ended the Skype call before Fred could see him crying.

Fred didn't like to see him crying, either.

* * *

“Do you really have to go, Fred?”

Fred frowned. “I have to, 'Sabi. There's people out there that need help, and I aim to help them—just like everyone else here.” He gestured to the sea of people around them, all lining up for the same group of terminals.

Some of them were young and fresh-faced college students and 20-somethings, clearly nervous but excited. Some of them were older, parents of adult children, middle-aged workers, the odd senior citizen, some of them newbies as jittery as their juniors, some of them calm veterans. Some of them were professionals, crisp clothing, stylish haircuts, hunched over the latest gadgets and engrossed in their planners, their calls, and their e-mails.

Almost all of them had friends and family with them, all wishing them safe travels, sharing last minute warnings and advice, taking commemorative selfies, pictures, and videos.

“They still have banks and internet there,” Wasabi said. “I'm sure you can just make a donation!”

Fred smiled. “Already have, actually! My folks and I wired the money over as soon as they set up the accounts.” His face turned serious. “But donations just aren't enough.”

Wasabi tried to think of a new reason to justify Fred's not going. He'd already used sponsoring a volunteer group to go in his stead, hiring medical professionals to go there, or even helping out the PR and advertising back in San Fransokyo—besides, most of the people around were in the group he was sponsoring as evidenced by their shirts, Fred's parents had already sent three separate private research teams into the fray, and the public didn't mind Big Hero 6 appearances minus Fred, after learning what he was doing instead.

Fred put his hands on Wasabi's shoulders. “There's gonna be a lot of people pouring in to help. Some of them are going to know exactly what they need to do before the plane even touches down, a _lot_ of them are going to be running around looking for someone to tell them what to do, using up the same pool of resources, and worst case scenario, end up as part of the victims.

“Every person that's spending time teaching and tutoring is another person that isn't out there in the field in the villages or the cities, or in the infirmaries, or on the road with trucks filled with supplies. And it's best if the person doing all the teaching and the tutoring is someone who's done this hundreds of times before—especially if they're a celebrity and people will listen to them.

“There's a Call to Action across the pond, Wasabi. They need heroes there—heroes like me.”

Wasabi wrapped his arms around Fred and pulled him into a hug, burying the blonde's face into his chest. He sobbed, tears pouring down his cheeks.

“I'm gonna miss you, Fred.”

Fred smiled and patted Wasabi on his back. “I'm gonna miss you too, Wasabi.”

The PA systems crackled to life. It was time to board. Most of the people said their very last, truly final farewells, some of them headed to the terminals to get a good seat, avoid the crush, or get away from the impending theatrics.

Wasabi pushed Fred away and planted a kiss on his lips. “Goodbye, Fred.”

Fred smiled and shook his head. “It's Not 'Goodbye', Wasabi—it's 'See you later.' 'Goodbye' means it's really over, like 'Goodbye' to your fish before you flush them down the toilet. 'See you later'… well, it's 'See you later.'

“I'll be back. Later.”

Wasabi let go, Fred walked towards the terminals. He looked back and waved, Wasabi waved back.

Then, he disappeared into throngs of people.

* * *

“They are with God now.” The preacher said. “They have ascended to the next plain of existence. They are awaiting the time when they will return to this world, born anew. They have started the next part of the journey on the path. They are with their ancestors now.

“Wherever their destination, wherever they are, whoever they might be now, let us all have a moment of silence for those who have lost their lives in this great tragedy, and to honour those who have given their lives to save the other victims.”

Wasabi rubbed the back of Fred's hand. Fred never stopped looking at the screen, at the camera shots panning over the urns, the preachers and religious persons speaking on the stage, and the shots of the families and friends of the deceased in the live audience.

They watched in silence, till the official coverage ended, till the candle they'd lit burned down to a tiny stub and extinguished itself, till their early San Fransokyo morning turned into a bright and sunny noon.

“I wish I could have done more for those people.” Fred said, breaking the silence.

Wasabi squeezed his hand. “You did everything you could, Fred. Besides, you helped save lives, you should always remember that.”

Fred sighed. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Wasabi reached over and shut his laptop. “So, what're your plans, now that your volunteering is officially over?”

Fred smiled and snuggled up to Wasabi's chest. “I was thinking I'd spend a nice, quiet, peaceful day inside with my boyfriend.”

Both of their phones rang. Neither needed to guess as to who or what it was—there was only one thing on both their contact lists that used that same ringtone.

Fred chuckled. _“Or_ getting back into the superheroing groove with my boyfriend, my friends, and our robot. That's pretty good, too.”

Wasabi leaned down and gave Fred a kiss on the forehead. “I'll just be putting on my equipment.” He said as he stood up. “Oh, and before I forget: Fred?”

“Yeah?”

Wasabi smiled. “It's good to have you back.”

Fred grinned. “Hey, I did say 'See you later.', didn't I?”


End file.
